Another print represented a huge muscular woman, with large coarse features distorted into the stare and grin of a maniac, an enormous lyre in her hand, a cloud of hair flying in one direction, and a volume of drapery exhibiting its streaky folds in another; while she is running to the edge of a precipice, as if pursued by a mad bull, and plunging forward with one foot in the air, and her arms extended above her head. This was Sappho on the rock of Leucate. These two prints Mr. Franchimeau (who professed connoisseurship, and always talked when pictures were the subject--that is, French pictures) pointed out to his visiters as magnificent emanations of the Fine Arts. "The coarse arts, rather," murmured Uncle Philip. The guests were received with much suavity by the French ladies and the _vieux_ papa; and Capt. Kentledge was introduced by Madame Franchimeau to three little black-haired girls, with surprisingly yellow faces, who were designated by the mother as "_mon aimable Lulu, ma mignonne Mimi, and ma petite ange Gogo_."[52] Uncle Philip wondered what were the real names of these children. [Footnote 52: My lovely Lulu, my darling Mimi, and my little angel Gogo.] After this, Madame Franchimeau left the room for a moment, and returned, leading in a very pretty young girl, whom she introduced as her _très chère niece, Mademoiselle Robertine_,[53] orphan daughter of a brother of her respectable Alphonse. [Footnote 53: Her beloved niece, Miss Robertine.] Robertine had a neat French figure, a handsome French face, and a profusion of hair arranged precisely in the newest style of the wax figures that decorate the windows of the most fashionable _coiffeurs_.[54] She was dressed in a thin white muslin, with a short black silk apron, embroidered at the corners with flowers in colours. Mr. Franchimeau resigned to her his chair beside Uncle Philip, to whom (while her aunt and the Ravigotes were chattering and shrugging to Mrs. Clavering) she addressed herself with considerable fluency and in good English. People who have known but little of the world, and of the best tone of society, are apt, on being introduced to new acquaintances, to talk to them at once of their profession, or in reference to it; and Robertine questioned Uncle Philip about his ships and his voyages, and took occasion to tell him that she had always admired the character of a sailor, and still more that of a captain; that she thought the brown tinge given by the sea air a great improvement to a fine manly countenance; that fair-complexioned people were her utter aversion, and that a gentleman was never in his best looks till he had attained the age of forty, or, indeed, of forty-five. [Footnote 54: Hair-dressers.] "Then I am long past the age of good looks," said Uncle Philip, "for I was sixty-two the sixth of last June."